


Under and Over

by Flusion



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Action, Blood and Gore, Cover Art, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Recovery, Romance, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:15:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27334792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flusion/pseuds/Flusion
Summary: In the midst of a savage series of wars, Robin and Nowi come together by some stroke of fate. Robin needs to deal with his unknowable past which comes to haunt him in increasingly strange and dangerous ways. Nowi battles with her own nigh crippling inner turmoil as she's thrown into the slaughter alongside the Shepherds. These two navigate the path set before them, all while they lean ever closer together.
Relationships: Lissa & Nowi, Liz | Lissa & My Unit | Reflet | Robin, My Unit | Reflet | Robin & Sallya | Tharja, My Unit | Reflet | Robin/Nono | Nowi
Comments: 19
Kudos: 30





	1. Under

**(Prologue)  
**

****

Robin snuck through the long shadows of night, following behind Gaius. He was in the center of a trio, with the newly hired mercenary behind them. Gregor, a friendly older man with some good intel.  


****

Hired on by the Grimleal, he quickly realized who they were, and killed as many of them as he could while escaping.  


****

“Gregor, are you sure it’s this tent?” Robin asked.  


****

Their little band of scouts had already passed the slave tents. Four long rows of cages to show off the products to potential buyers, split into two tents.  


****

“Gregor is certain. Little girl was in separate tent. Just ahead.  


****

“Patrol,” Gaius hissed, and backpedaled fast, forcing the two more combat-minded men with him.  


****

They fell around a corner unseen, just as two robed men walked past silently. Robin took in a deep breath then, and let it out slow and controlled, that barely a sound passed his nose.  


****

Gaius pulled around the corner then, and gave an experimental peek out into the pathway of the tent city. Robin look around the corner, crouched with Gregor looking from above him, waiting for the signal.  


****

Gaius waited another moment, before motioning for them to follow. He darted across the path and directly into the tent across the way. Before Robin could even get into the tent he heard a muffled gasp and a cracking noise.  


****

Robin rushed into the tent to find a single man on the ground twitching with his head bent to an odd angle. The other corner held their target. A young woman, hands bound completely in metal and legs chained to separate spikes in the ground.  


****

Robin whispered, “Gaius you need to teach me how to do that.”  


****

Gaius responded without humor, “I hate doing that.”  


****

Robin just shrugged and Gregor patted the thief on the back.  


****

“Gaius check the man’s pockets, look for keys. We’ll pick the locks off later if we need.”  


****

Robin knelt down in front of the girl. Her modesty was barely kept with thin strips of cloth tied about her chest and waist. She was bruised in a rainbow of sickening color. All manner of greens and purples, some of which were bleeding red into the mix. The horrible blotches of color started at her upper torso, and went down to just above her knees.  


****

“Keep quiet,” he said to her, before cutting the gag wrapped around her jaw.  


****

“No keys boss,” Gaius said.  


****

“We’ll have to brake the chains then. As close to her ankles as possible.”  


****

Robin looked to the girl then, “This is going to be a bit hot.”  


****

He held his hand out and focused the magic into it. Robin wasn’t as good as Miriel with fire magic, but it would get the job done. He let it concentrate into a single point at the tip of his finger, searing hot. Able to cut through almost anything.  


****

Robin put one hand over her foot, and then touched his burning finger to the chains, right at her ankle, and began to melt the metal.  


To her credit the girl didn’t even flinch. She held in place, and watched passively as he worked. It felt almost like she was looking through him. Off into the distance.  


****

He started on her other leg, and made quick work of it.  


****

“Can you stand?” he asked her.  


****

She made no verbal response. The girl made a slow nod, and he helped her up only for her to wobble forward into his arms.  


****

She was quite heavy. Easily three times what she probably should be. Chrom had mentioned something similar about him once, after beating him down in sparring. When Chrom had helped him back up.  


****

Robin pulled his hand up and peeled her eye all the way open. They were dry and somewhat crusty. Just as her lips were cracked. They were barely keeping her sustained enough to stay awake.  


****

Dilated pupils. Almost no iris. He let go of her face, and her head slumped to rest on his shoulder.  


****

“They’ve got her drugged. We’ll have to carry her.”  


****

He reached down just behind her knees, with on hand on her back and hoisted her up to chest level. She looked up at him with a dopy half-lidded expression. Definitely not all there.  


****

“Gaius get us out of here A-S-A-P,” Robin said.  


****

“Can do,” He said, and darted out of the tent, pushing past the flaps with Robin and Gregor close behind.  


****

Gaius led them into the alleyway they had travelled through before, nimble as he stepped between the tent stakes. Robin tried to keep her as still as possible as he ran, huffing.  


****

Gregor could probably carry her much more easily than he, but the older man was much more skilled with weapon fighting and hand-to-hand. If they ran into a situation, Gregor would be able to handle a patrol on his own, without help from Gaius or Robin.  


****

Gaius stopped them at the next intersection. At the tail end of a passing group. A horse-drawn cart covered with a layer of canvas.  


****

He peeked his head out to check both directions, when a shout came from behind them.  


****

“Hey you there!”  


****

Robin turned to look as Gregor sprang into action. He unhooked his axe and split one armored man’s head in half, before unleashing a punch to crush the throat of the mage. Gaius flew forward then and finished the third mercenary with a dagger to the heart.  


****

All three men fell, two dead and the mage clutching at his throat even as he coughed blood. He stared hatred at them, doing his best to make sound before Gregor brought and armored boot down to finish him off.  


****

“Somebody must have spotted us, we need to get out of here before the whole place goes into alert,” Gaius said.  


****

The thief turned about and sprinted out into the road before leaping into the next ally. Gregor push him forward even as he got a start after the agile man.  


****

“Come Robin!” Gregor chuckled as he ran behind him.  


****

Robin hoisted the girl tighter to his chest and took off with more shouts coming from behind them.  


****

“Gregor I need to get a book or two on infiltration,” Robin said.  


****

Gregor laugh then, full out even as he ran, “That is spirit! Always a way to learn.”  


****

Gregor stopped then, “Here a minute Robin give me girl. We can go big now, no?”  


****

Robin nodded and transferred the girl into Gregor’s arms, who tested her impressive weight before nodding and mumbling something Robin didn’t catch. Gregor set off much faster with her than he could have, given his size and strength, leaving Robin to hold the back. Easy enough now that his arms were free.  


****

He pulled a round orb from one of his many pockets and set fire to it before tossing it aside as it started to spew yellow smoke. We’ve been discovered. Commence attack.  


****

The shepherds had all snuck into the camp, and were positioned strategically to do the most damage to the command structure as possible. His mission was to get the girl out of there. She’d be the first thing that they’d move in the event of an assault.  


****

Robin then lifted his spell book. His personal tome for a wider range of spells. He didn’t need to open it to know the pattern. The book crackled just the same as the energy in his other hand, gathering for a powerful bolt.  


****

Running and casting was generally ill advised, lest one made a fatal mistake, but he was confident enough in the easier spells to do it. He held the lighting in his hand till is started to burn, waiting until the last second when it would be powerful enough to discharge.  


****

He turned and let loose just as a few men rounded the corner behind him. They all fell in line within the tight confines of the alley, and instantly dropped seizing on the ground.  


****

Robin turned then and ran after Gregor who was disappearing down a corner into a main thoroughfare. All around them warning horns blared out. They would be hunted down with prejudice inside the camp.  


****

Just after the Grimleal horns sounded out, the shepherds’ battle horn played out. He could hear the battle cries of some of the more vocal shepherds.  
Robin caught up as Gaius dispatched a few more cloaked men.  


****

“We need to get out of here fast,” he said.  


****

“Uh-huh,” Gaius intoned. He popped another sweet in his mouth and took off again.  


Gregor and Robin followed close behind, and while the older man was occupied with an incapacitated prisoner, Robin was able to prepare a more complex spell matrix. In front of his vision it formed a sphere of yellow runes, then incased in a cube of light runes. The slow way always meant using less energy, and didn’t cause any pain.  


****

Then, when the spell was almost fully prepared in front of him he got a familiar itch. One he’d been feeling ever since killing Emmeryn’s assassin. An itch, or a burn. It varied in intensity, but always came as a powerful temptation. Like an addiction.  


****

_Use me,_ the temptation said. The mark on his hand ached as he added the third matrix to the spell. A band of dark energy. He didn’t know what it meant, but it was instinctual and made his spell more powerful.  


__

****

__

Robin had first wondered if it was a type of muscle memory from before. He had all but confirmed he had been from Plegia as part of the Grimleal, perhaps he could use dark magic.  


__

****

__

Now that his spell was done forming he turned on his heel and began to cast it in earnest. With the matrix fully formed he only had to incant the spell and put the power into it. He held up his hand to channel, trying to ignore the burning from the mark.  


__

****

__

The dark mages all fired their own magic off as well. Most of them missing, one hit and produced a powerful sucking feeling. Like he was sinking into the ground and losing his life energy, though physically he wasn’t moving anywhere.  


__

****

__

He maintained concentration through it, and sent a bolt of black lightning crashing towards the crowd of adversaries gaining on them. Robin couldn’t feel sorry for the person who was hit directly, they wouldn’t feel a thing as they nigh instantly exploded in a shower of gore. Lucky for them, because everyone around them was either caught in the blast and sent flying, or fell to the ground shaking.  


__

****

__

He didn’t envy the ones who experienced both.  


__

****

__

_What pathetic creatures,_ He thought.  


____

****

____

He stood and admired at his handiwork with teeth bared, before coming back to his senses with a hand on his shoulder.  


____

****

____

“You alright there?” Gaius asked.  


____

****

____

He shook out of it.  


____

****

____

“I’m fine. Just a little drained. Got hit a few times.”  


____

****

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Gaius shuttered, “I can’t stand the feeling of dark magic.”  


____

****

____

Robin grinned at him before setting back into a heavy jog, “Get used to it. We’re in Plegia now.”  


____

****

____

+++++++++++++  


____

****

____

**Chapter 1  
**

____

********

____

The heat of the Plegian desert bore down on the Ylissean-Feroxi Coalition. It came down as if in waves, blasting all those unfortunate enough to be out and about.  


____

********

____

Robin squinted and could see not too far out into the distance a mirage. Common within the desert dunes. The false pools of water would lead many unknowledgeable people astray. He had laughed when Vaike first saw the mirages and took off at the prospect of fresh water.  


____

********

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He had some innate information about the desert. Random facts. Plants to eat, and ways to travel and survive. He had never in his memory read about such things, so it was another large arrow pointing towards his plausible origins, if some of the shepherds hadn’t already continuously reminded him. He frowned at the thought. Frowned at reimagining their shocked and horrified faces the first time he had been seen shirtless.  


____

********

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His entire upper body was covered in the evidence. Grimleal tattoos. Save for the mark on his hand, they were but trappings. Purely some form of religious observance from his past. Robin couldn’t remember what they even meant, and the Halidom of Ylisse, ever the theocracy, held no information on them.  


____

********

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He resolved himself to find a book about the Grimleal while he was here in Plegia.  


____

********

____

Footsteps pattered behind him. Robin turned to see a messenger, sweating under the late afternoon sun. Robin schooled his expression into that of the commander. Second only to Chrom, crown prince of Ylisse.  


____

********

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“A message?” he asked the boy.  


____

********

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The messenger stopped and bowed, “Yes sir. I’ve a note from his Highness. He wants to meet with you in the map room to discuss.”  


Robin took the note, gave the boy a nod, “Thank you. Where are you off to next?”  


____

********

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“Supply sir.”  


____

********

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“Okay,” Robin fished his own note out of his pocket, one he had been in the process of delivering personally, “Take this letter to the quartermaster.”  


Along with the note, Robin also handed the boy a few coins. Not necessary, but a gesture that any of the runners appreciated.  


____

********

____

“Thank you sir,” and the messenger was off again, headed in the direction he was now turning away from.  


____

********

____

Robin sighed and went on his way. He wasn’t used to the rank yet. Life had been easier when he was just the commander of the shepherds. He routinely forgot (ignored) the fact that he had messengers and servants, instead electing to do many simpler tasks himself.  


____

********

____

Robin strode with purpose now towards the center of the camp being constructed around him. Men worked efficiently to set up the tents as living space for the night. The majority of the army spent every evening putting up the tents. At least for an hour or two.  


____

********

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Near the very middle of the hastily constructed tent city was the “command center.” A collection of tents with important purposes. The shepherds’ tents were nearby, as many of their number were also officers in the army, who spent a majority of their time at command.  


____

********

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The exception being Cordelia. She was a commanding officer, but was also the quartermaster. He had been making use of her keen mind and inclination for numbers to his advantage.  


____

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Soon Robin stepped into the map room, or the war room. It was both. The largest tent meant for meetings to discuss strategy and troop movements. Within the relieving shade offered by the tarp was only Chrom.  


____

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Chrom raised an eyebrow, and unknit his arms, “That was quick,”  


____

********

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Robin shrugged, “I was already about.”  


____

********

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“Out delivering another letter then?” Chrom asked, chuckling.  


____

********

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Robin gave a small smile, “Indeed. I’m not sure if I’ll ever adjust to this whole commander thing. Having people subservient to me is… unnerving.”  


____

********

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Chrom laughed, “I know what you mean. That’s why I created the shepherds in the first place. A task force I could control under my own power. Where I could foster friendships mostly uninhibited by my status.”  


____

********

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“So why’d you call me here?” Robin asked.  


____

********

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Chrom immediately switched gears back into business.  


____

********

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“Ah yes. It’s about those two we picked up back at the Grimleal camp last week.”  


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Robin nodded, “Gregor and Nowi?”  


____

********

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“Yes,” the prince replied, “I’m thinking about inducting them into the shepherds. I doubt Gregor will say no. We pay our shepherds better than most mercenaries. It’s a bonus that he gets along well with several of the shepherds, and has already started sparring with Lon’qu and Vaike. Having a legendary mercenary officially in our ranks will do wonders to boost our personal fighting power and clout.  


____

********

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“You don’t need to sell him to me Chrom. I went on that rescue mission with him. Not much a rescue mission considering we killed all of the slavers and hired all of the slaves,” Robin said.  


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Chrom frowed in disgust and spat on the ground, “One of the few good things my father ever did was the removal of the slave trade from Ylisse.”  


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“Indeed. I’ve no objections about Gregor, but what of Nowi? She’s recovering well, but is she a combatant?”  


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“Lissa’s been personally taking care of her. She’s all but fallen in love I’d say,” Chrom laughed, “I got to have a personal conversation with her yesterday.”  


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Robin crossed his arms, “Uh-huh.”  


____

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“Robin I know you have amnesia. Have you read about Manaketes?”  


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His eyes widened, “Wait you’re saying Nowi is one?”  


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Chrom nodded, “I recognized some of the characteristics yesterday during our conversation and brought it up. She’s more than just any manakete though. She’s from the divine dragon tribe, meaning she is a child of Naga. Indirectly I think, she’s only around 1000 years old,” Chrom shook his head.  


____

********

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“Doesn’t matter. What matters is she’ll be a powerful ally. Her mere presence will bolster moral. I wouldn’t be surprised if many of the soldiers fell to their knees and worshipped her.”  


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Robin chuckled, “That would be a sight to behold. She doesn’t cut much of an imposing figure. She’s shorter than me, and I’m not exactly tall.”  


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“Don’t take her humanoid form lightly. I got to see a manakete transform only once at Emmeryn’s coronation. It was a sight to behold.”  


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“Well I don’t have anything against letting either of them join up with the shepherds. You didn’t ask me to integrate any of the other newer additions, why’s now any different?”  


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“Well now you have a proper political position,” Chrom said, “I figured it would be a fair excuse to get the advice of a friend.”  


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Robin shrugged, “I’ll go ahead and add them to the roster, but I’ll need to have conversations with both of them. One on one, maybe a bit of light sparring. I need to figure out exactly where they both line up strategically.”  


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Chrom gave him a pat on the shoulder, “Thank you Robin.”  


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++++++++++++++  


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**A few days ago  
**

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Nowi woke suddenly, and the first thing she noticed was everything.  


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All around her enclosed space was the sound of movement, the sharp smell of campfires and the musk of horses. She could smell the fresh linen of her bedsheets, and feel the soft fiber rub over her exposed skin.  


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Sheets? She was in a bed, covered in blankets with her head rested on a pillow.  


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What was happening? Did they forget to drug her? Where was she?  


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Despite the clarity of her mind and senses, when she attempted to get out of the bed she was incredibly sluggish. Exhausted. Sore. Sore all over.  


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********** **

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So they had taken turns at her again the night before, but forgot to dose her again at the end of it. What fools! She may feel weak, but even a weakened dragon was more than a match for a few dirty men, dark mages they may be.  


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Her smile as she attempted to get to her feet was equal parts giddy and savage.  


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She could feel her dragon stone nearby. The other half of her soul thrumming out the rhythm of her heartbeat. Singing in joy.  


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Wait it was on the desk beside her. Why?  


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It was then that the footsteps outside became distinct, and the flaps to the tent were pushed aside to reveal a young woman. At best, barely an adult. She had her blonde hair up in two pigtails, and wore a yellow dress.  


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Yellow? Those Grima worshippers only ever wore dark colors. Black, and brown. The higher ups sometimes afforded purple or blue.  


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“Oh you’re awake,” the girl was excited, “You’d probably do better to lay back down. At least for a little bit. Oh I’m Lissa by the way.”  


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She turned and set her thing down on a table, before setting to work grinding something up in a bowl. Chattering away all the while.  


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Nowi ignored her.  


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The girl was just going to turn her back to her? They hadn’t even shackled her! She resolved herself. Kill the girl and crawl out the back of the tent. Then she could make a break for a small clearing and transform to get out of the camp.  


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She stood to her full inconsiderable height, and lunged forward. Baring her fangs to bite.  


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She met sudden resistance as Lissa turned about and grabbed one each of her arms. Her grip firm.  


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“Careful there. No one here is going to hurt you okay? Relax.”  


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Nowi slumped forward. If she was so weak as to be unable to overpower a child, how could she expect to have the energy to transform and fly?  


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Lissa guided her back to the bed and set her down.  


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“Take it easy for a bit. I’m grinding up some herbs to put in a drink for you. Best taken with a meal. Ah! That reminds me,” she stepped out of the tent and yelled, “You there! Yes. You. To the mess tent and bring me some food. Some cereal, boiled chicken with no seasoning, and an orange. eh-sap.”  


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She returned and got back to work on her herbs, “Sorry about that. Where was I? Oh yeah the herbs,” she continued, “We need to work on flushing your body. I don’t know what all they were drugging you with but it’s done a number on your system. The only reason that you’re probably still alive is your heritage. Would you be able to tell me about all the symptoms you were experiencing?”  


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Nowi remained silent then, for some time. Lissa seemed to be content with waiting her out. She finished preparing her tonic and then took a seat.  


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“They…” she stopped a moment to collect her thoughts, “Things to keep me weak and complacent. I have major memory loss. Days and days where I couldn’t remember what happened the night before.”  


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Nowi sneered then, predatory. Her pupils narrowing as they zoned in on Lissa. Specifically to the crook of her neck.  


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“Killing you should be easy. With my teeth, or my bare hands,” she gazed down at her trembling hands then, and the look left her.  


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Nowi seemed to shrink then. She slouched down, crumpled in on herself, and looked down to the ground.  


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“Where am I?”  


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The rest of the questions went needlessly unspoken. _Who are you? Why am I here?_  


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Lissa hummed, looking thoughtful, “We rescued you last night. This is the Ylissean-Feroxi coalition. We came upon the Grimleal camp and decided to deal with it. That’s how we found you. One of the mercenaries they had hired defected when he saw what was happening. He waited for a good opportunity, and escaped. We used to his knowledge to infiltrate the camp in small groups at key locations.”  


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There was a sudden knock on the frame of the tent door. The sound sending Nowi high in the air. She pushed herself into the corner then, pulling the sheets of the bed up over herself.  


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“Oh food’s here!” Lissa skipped out and came back in then with a tray of food as she ordered.  


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The person delivering the food reached their hand in and set down a pitcher just inside the tent, not showing their face or any defining features.  


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“Go on then, sit at the edge of the bed, we’re gonna set the tray in your lap for now.”  


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It took Nowi another moment to unwind again and scoot to the edge of the bed. When she was set, with her legs properly falling over the edge and resting on the ground, Lissa leaned down to set the tray of food into her lap.  


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She tried not to stare at that exposed weak spot on the girl’s neck. An inviting opportunity to escape, but finding out that she was- probably- in the middle of a war camp, she didn’t much like her chances of getting away with murder.  


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“Here we go. Everything’s pretty bland, but I don’t want to start you back on anything too intense,” Lissa gave her a look, as if she was sizing her up, “I don’t think you’ve had much to eat in a while. Take it slow.”  


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Nowi settled herself and picked up a piece of the chicken. Plain. She brought it close to her face, parted her lips and inhaled. The smell of meat set her body alight. Meat!  


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It was the most delicious things she had ever smelled in her life.  


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She was over eager, and took a bite out of it. Too big of a bite. Even as she nearly gagged on it and spat it back out into her hand her heart soared. Hunger raged through her then, and the whole of the world blanked out as she tore the chicken into a more palatable size with her hands and began popping the slightly chewed chunks back into her mouth.  


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She shuddered with the first swallow. Shivered in rapt pleasure at the simple taste.  


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After she had the first piece down and started reaching for the second and final one, Lissa blocked her. Even as she gave out a warning growl which did nothing to deter the medic-doctor-person  


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“Slow down. The food’s not going anywhere. Why don’t you start on the oats? I promise it’ll make it much easier to stomach the rest of the food.”  


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Nowi glared at Lissa then. For a few seconds the healer held the look unwavering, until Nowi gave in and picked up the spoon to start on the slop.  


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She could smell the oats. They were much more flavorful. Apple slices, and maybe a hint of cinnamon. Nowi brought the spoonful to her mouth and took the bite. Her eyes widened at the flavor, and she looked up at Lissa in surprise.  


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On the second bite Lissa brought out a handkerchief and used it to wipe at her cheek.  


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The tray of food was then set aside then, when Lissa sat down on the bed and held the small dragon girl while she cried.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some liberties with Nowi's personality here in the beginning. It is more or less implied through some supports that her childish/happy-go-lucky character is an act she puts up in order to be a sort of happy relief to those around her. 
> 
> Thank you to any and all who read and enjoy this!
> 
> Art is by Lastlace_cafe  
> twitter.com/lastlace_cafe  
> instagram.com/lastlace_cafe


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bit of a doozy to write. It ended up roughly twice as long as I intended, but I'm more or less satisfied with it in it's current state.
> 
> Enjoy!

Robin made his way through the camp to the medical tents. They were several long rows of tents, with only few private spaces for sensitive cases. As he walked past the unit for the most gravely injured he noticed one of the soldiers laying in a cot. Probably not long for the world.

Nowi had a private space in the medical facilities, where she received care from Lissa, the princess of Ylisse, and one of the most accomplished healers in the world despite her young age. There were few who could match her skill or talent in white magic.

The only exception in the army was Libra, but he was also a religious leader and a combatant. He was quite busy.

Libra was a low-level officer in command of the war healers. Monks and clerics who wielded weapons in one hand and staves in the other. In that regard, he was just as skilled at reattaching the bottom half of a man as he was at removing the top half from his enemies. Robin had great respect for him and his axe skills.

Once he found the proper tent he knocked on the post set outside. He heard a quiet hiss inside and some shuffling around.

“It’s me. Robin,” He called.

Lissa was there, and poked her head out, “Give us just a minute she’s only got bandages on right now.”

There was more shuffling around and some quiet chatter which he respectfully blocked out and ignored.

A few minutes later Lissa stepped out and sidled up close to him.

“Take your coat off and leave it out here,” she whispered, “She’s got a thing against the Grimleal. I think.”

He shrugged of his favored coat. Something he couldn’t ever seem to misplace, and couldn’t bear to part with for long. He showed the princess his arms. They were covered in religious symbols he couldn’t fathom the meaning to.

“I can’t exactly hide the tattoos,” he then tapped his marked hand, where the faintly glowing purple mark pulsed, “This one’s magic. I’m sure she’ll be able to tell no matter what.”

Lissa pinched the bridge of her nose, “Alright well. Nothing to be done. If she freaks out you’re leaving, and I can’t promise there won’t be frogs in your coffee tomorrow.”

Robin chuckled, “There are no frogs in the desert.”

Lissa patted one of her pockets, “That’s what you think,” she grabbed his hand and lead him in, “Come on.”

Robin and Lissa stepped into the shade of the VIP tent, where Nowi was sitting at the edge of her bed. Robin saw a range of emotions flash quickly across her face at his entrance. She quickly glanced back and forth between his face and arms.

Robin took a seat across from her, and rested his arms on his lap, with his back straight. He was going to make sure he kept his hands in plain view the entire time, that he might make is visit more comfortable for her.

“It is good to properly meet you Nowi. I’m glad to see you are recovering well,” He started with simple pleasantries. Predictable words.

Nowi nodded and gave a smile that was probably supposed to be chilling. She showed off her teeth, displaying the deadly weapons that were her fangs. He took it for what it was. A threat.

 _Be careful how you act around me,_ She told him silently.

“Who are you?” She asked.

He bowed in his seat. A small nod to her. She was a divine dragon, and her status warranted his respect.

“I am Sir Robin of Ylisse. Head of Tactics and battlefield strategy. The tactician of the Shepherds.”

“Robin…,” she said his name slowly, as if tasting it, “Now why would the Halidom employ a Grimleal priest of such high standing to lead their military.”

So she knew something about his past, if only peripherally.

Lissa rested a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. It was all the encouragement he needed. He emptied his lungs and took a deep breathe.

“I’d tell you about myself if I could, Nowi, but I’m afraid I suffer from amnesia. That is why Chrom hired me. I had the innate skills to fill the spot and was in great need of help. The specifics of my background remain unclear to me, but it has been very apparent to me what I once was.”

 _A monster,_ his mind supplied.

Robin rubbed at the scars covering his casting arm. The same arm with the mark on it. It was covered. Long lines running the length, and smaller cuts across his wrist and forearm. He worried at the single jagged line going across his palm, mangled so much it was nothing short of proof of his affiliation with dark magic. Many of the hexes and curses required blood.

He decided to make a show of it. Robin reached down, and pulled up his shirt to expose most of his torso. He observed her eyes as they traced over every line of every tattoo. Her predatory catlike pupils opened to take it all in.

“I don’t know what any of these mean.” He said.

She was silent for a moment longer before speaking, “What do you want from me Robin?”

He felt a sort of energy from her. It radiated from her like the sun. Another threat to him. Raw magical energy. The force of it hit him as if he had been slammed by the shield of a strongman.

Beside him Lissa wobbled and fell onto him. He held her up and she leaned onto him with a whispered apology. Perhaps the pressure of the magic was a bit too much for her.

He grinned at Nowi, “You’ll have to teach me how to do that,”

She physically recoiled from him at his words. He saw her reach for her Dragonstone then. The small orb was rested on a bowl-like pedestal on her nightstand.

 _Did she expect me to fall over?_ He thought.

Robin raised his hands into the air, away from his body, open on display.

“I didn’t come here hurt you, or put you in any danger. I simply make it my point to have conversations with all of the shepherds,” Robin said.

Nowi scrunched her eyebrows together. She hesitated, one hand on the stone the other one hissing with magic. She was preparing to cast.

She held her position, but did not make to release whatever spell she was holding in.

Robin continued, “Perhaps I ought to come talk another time. Tomorrow maybe? You’ll be moving in with the rest of the shepherds right. We’re on a bit of a short time frame. I’ll take Lissa with me and give you a chance to cool down.”

Robin stood then, and made sure to choreograph all of his movements. Lissa had warned him that the girl was a bit strung up and tense. He hadn’t expected her to get violent.

He grabbed Lissa and supported her with his shoulder while he wrapped his arm under her non-adjacent arm. He pulled her through the tent flaps, and the threatening waves of magic stopped almost instantly, though he could still feel the telltale crackling of whatever magic Nowi had prepared.

He sat Lissa down against a post and shrugged his coat back on, before kneeling down to get a better look at her.

“You alright?” he asked.

Lissa nodded, “Yeah, just a bit weak. Didn’t hurt or anything.”

“You mentioned that she was a bit wound-up, but I didn’t think you meant violently.”

Lissa laughed, “I didn’t expect it to go violent. When she first woke up and was confused she tried to kill me, but hasn’t made any moves since. Not with Chrom, any of the other healers, or me.”

Robin patted down all his pockets, checking to make sure all of his items in their places.

“Well I’m not exactly blessed by Naga. Probably the opposite, if her reaction is anything to go by. I don’t doubt that she’s suffered much from the Grimleal.”

Lissa shook her head, “You know Chrom and I don’t care about your past. What matters now is what you do today and tomorrow.”

“I know you don’t, but everybody else cares. Including me. I don’t think a day goes by where I don’t wonder about who I am, or what I’m supposed to be doing. All this knowledge of dark magic I have. Lissa, I don’t think I was just some nameless worshipper. I’ve probably done terrible things,” Robin chuckled then, “Who knows how many people I’ve condemned to experiences like hers,” he pointed back to the medical tent.”

Lissa poked him on the forehead, “Well make up for it then if you feel so bad. We’re going to go save Emm. Work on that. Work on ending this war.”

Lissa shoved him then, “Go on get going. You’ve got things to do and so do I. Nowi gets her tent in the shepherds’ circle tonight.”

Robin got up and stepped away, “Good day Lissa, but I’ve just added another block on my to-do list.”

“Hold on,” she whined, “Help me up first.”

+++++++++++

It took Nowi a moment to calm back down. Several gasps for air, followed by a more controlled breathing structure. Slow. In and out.

Seeing those purple marks again so thoroughly carved into his body. Running along his arms and covering his chest. Worst of all the mark on his hand. Even when she couldn’t see it she could feel it. Powerful dark magic. It was binding magic, which sealed something inside him. It locked some portion of his power away.

It had set panic rooting into her. Made her feel ashamed and full of rage. Ashamed at herself and her misplaced fear. Rage at the bastards who had caused the whole mess in the first place.

As she relaxed-slow and steady- back into a more comfortable sitting position she took the time to wonder.

_What is he?_

Certainly not an ordinary human. Even the most adept of mages had gotten dazed from so much excess magic flowing around. He had amnesia so perhaps his body was the result of some dark Grimleal experiment in his childhood.

Time would tell if he could be trusted. She hoped so. Lissa hadn’t even touched her brother the way she had done so with him. Affirmation with a hand to the shoulder. Not to mention when she all but fell on him due to her magic.

Nowi heard the sounds of conversation from outside, and her long ears flicked around to better pick up the sound. Robin and Lissa talking.

They exchanged farewells and there was some more shuffling, before Lissa popped back into the space.

She immediately started up “Are you okay?” she asked.

_Of course not_

“I’m fine. I was just startled a bit. It concerns me to have a dark mage so nearby.” she said.

“Robin turned out well enough,” Lissa smiled, “Beyond that I trust Chrom’s judgement of character.”

“Does Robin use dark magic at all?” Nowi asked.

Lissa shook her head, “No not seriously. He sometimes adds a flair of it to his spells I noticed. A month or so ago we had a confrontation with some assassins after Emmeryn. Their leader was a powerful dark mage, and when he hit Robin with a spell…- well that’s when it started.”

Nowi sighed and rubbed at her neck. She gave her own stiffened shoulder a squeeze.

She looked past Lissa towards the entrance to the tent, “I’m moving into my own tent tonight right?”

Lissa jumped up gleefully and started pacing, “Yes, how could I forget! We need to get your things packed up, oh, well we need to get you moved over there. Grab your things and-“ She stopped suddenly.

Rather she didn’t stop, but no sound came from her. Her mouth moved without sound. Complete silence. No camp fires. No horses or men. It was as if she was deafened.

She watched Lissa trail off when she realized she couldn’t hear herself speak. The princess’ eyes going wide. They both knew what this meant.

Nowi stood up, and took off out of her safe space. She lost her balance and wobbled, but Lissa was behind her.

+++++++++++

Robin left feeling thoroughly disappointed. A bit saddened. He hoped he could work things out with Nowi, for she didn’t seem to like him much, but that could happen later.

The shepherds would likely hold a bonfire to celebrate the induction of new shepherds. People would get drunk, and she’d probably want to stay far away from the rowdy party. He’d mention “tomorrow,” but tomorrow could be “tonight” instead.

As he thought about what he might do to entice her in conversation a sudden hush fell over the camp. It gave him pause.

The hush, he realized, was rather and absence of sound. The world had gone blank around him, and an intense pressure was building in his ears that made him dizzy. A silence spell.

Even as his balance failed him from the sudden loss in his ability to feel the world around him with sound. Even when he took a step and couldn’t hear the slight jostle within his own body he felt it coming.

Some supernatural feeling, or maybe it was just luck that he wobbled out of the way. An arrow flew past him, soundless, and got caught within a nearby tent. It just barely missed slicing open his cheek.

Robin drew the dagger he kept within his coat and pulled his sword from its sheathe such that he was dual wielding with his dagger in his left hand. A parrying dagger, or close enough. He whirled around, to face his assassin.

Four of them plus a mage. How long had they been following?

His chances were poor. Robin was good, but without his magic he wasn’t four-men-plus-a-mage-good. He needed to take out the mage first. It would release the silence, and give him the chance to either win, or call for help.

Robin sneered at them thinking of the odds. Almost like percentages he could see on paper.

_I like a challenge._

Robin stepped forward then, with his weapons drawn, and the men pulled back their bows ready to fire more silent shots at him.

The sprung forward the moment their bows were pulled taut. Forcing them to try and hit him on the move. He wove forward, making sure to pattern towards them in a zigzag. They fired and all four missed.

He laughed at them, he really did. It wasn’t his fault they couldn’t hear his mocking.

_Some skilled assassins._

They realized the futility of ranged attacks as he drew too close and pulled out swords. He saw the gentle gleam. The sheen of poison on those blades.

He swept his blade forward, knocking into the guard of one man. He forced the assassin sideways with the force of the blow, sending him into his compatriot.

The other two lunged then, and he dodged the first swing, but brought his dagger up to send the second blade careening off to the side. By the time he whirled around the face the first two again, they had already recovered, and he was too slow to avoid the strike. The man’s blade sung true, slicing across his thigh. His leg almost instantly went stiff and numb.

A crippling poison then. Not assassins. They had an opportunity to stab him through something much more important. Abductors. They were sent to capture him, and that made it all the better.

He growled the silent challenge to them, his vocal chords ripping out soundless as he turned and dove at the mage, propelling himself with his other, good leg. Intent on breaking the silence. It exposed his back and they got a few good swings in. His arms and back would bruise, but his coat was sturdy enough to deflect the blows.

Already he was feeling the poison at work, making him slower, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t about to fight it through sheer willpower.

He reached the mage, catching them by surprise it seemed, and ruining their concentration. His tackle sent the world exploding with sound again, as the sound of people nearby began to grow louder. They expressed their discontent and worry. Horns started calling the sound for an attack.

His would-be captors seemed to realize the futility of their attempt. And turned to run, but were met with his now magical assault. He sent a quick bolt of lightning to the location in front of them. The unexpected force of the attack caused them pause.

Plenty of time for him to send a second one out, landing true into the back of the nearest of his attackers.

Then, sword in hand-his dagger forgotten on the ground in favor of the crackling magic surging through him again so suddenly, - He jumped forward.

It was probably awkward to look at for anyone who might be there to see it. He was dragging his near useless right leg along after all, but it got the job done.

Perhaps realizing there was no escape from him, not with the camp going into full alert, they turned on him, and he could see the horror and fear in their faces.

He swung his sword down onto the nearest, and met steel for steel, but his left hand was no longer occupied of a short-ranged weapon, and he sent a paralyzing bolt at the man, who went rigid and dropped.

Another of the men threw out a panicked slash, and it caught him just barely. It glanced against his forehead, and suddenly his left eye had drooped shut.

_Enough of this._

Robin threw his sword. _Threw his sword._ At one of the men, and reached out with a crackling burning hand to grasp the throat of the last. The smell of burning flesh permeated the air, and the man he was killing couldn’t choke or scream. Couldn’t gasp or beg. He no longer had a throat, for it was the first thing that melted. He didn’t relent until there was nothing but scorched bone and charred bits remaining where once there was a neck.

He let go of the man and let him drop like a bag of sand to the ground.

_Deep breathe Robin._

He turned and survey the carnage. Only three bodies.

The mage was gone, along with one of the swordsmen. He hadn’t even noticed them slip away, too intent with the prey in front of him.

Robin fell into a sit. Completely without grace. His jaw was beginning to painfully lock up. His right leg was already there now. It had flexed at a painful angle.

Robin reached with both of his hands, and tore his pants to get a better look at the wound. That was when I grasped the scope of his attackers. The clean cut on his thigh was thin. Not deep. A wound which would barely cause any damage or prevent him from normally moving.

It was confirmation of sorts. It would be impossible to accidently wound someone so lightly when swing a sword at them. A paper cut felt worse, but maybe that was the poison doing its work. They had intended to capture him then.

He couldn’t be sure the poison _wasn’t_ intended to kill him, so he would do his best to prevent the potential.

Robin laid down in the sand next to the bodies of his attackers turned victims, and slowed his breathing as much as possible. Slow and shallow. He worked to calm his beating heart and come down from the rush of a life and death struggle.

As he lay there, Robin used his coat sleeve to wipe at the blood coming from above his eye.

They would find him. Someone would.

++++++++++

The situation only felt like it grew worse when the silence spell suddenly ended, so quickly after it had been put up. Warning horns were blaring around the camp, and every single blast of sound had her stiffening. Clenching her jaw. Hissing through the urge to rush into some hidden corner, or grab onto the sleeve of Lissa’s dress.

The army was mobilizing, organizing into teams to sweep the area. They ran past her in teams of 5, hunting for the attackers. It would probably only take them a few minutes to sweep through every corner of city.

Soon Lissa and Nowi had a team following them to protect the princess. They weren’t stupid enough to force her into safety, but still needed to protect their charge.

It was when they were passing by a minor road, that Nowi heard the calls for help. At this distance she could smell the subtle tang of blood and something more acrid. Burnt flesh. The terrible smell forcefully curled her lips is disgust.

Lissa turned down the road, and then around another corner with Nowi hot on her heels. That was where they found him.

Robin, laying on the ground near three other men. Supposedly attackers, whom did not bare any identifying mark of Ylisse or Ferox.

It was carnage. Two of the men were smoking. The source of the terrible smell. The third lay face down with Robin’s sword jutting out.

The most gruesome of it all was one of the burning men. Slowly smoking from his throat, or what was left of it. The only piece of his neck left was the bone, charred black. The base of his head, and at his shoulders were blackened lumps attached by the bone.

Nowi fought the urge to be sick, even as Lissa rushed over to Robin. She followed, and the group of soldiers surrounding him parted.

Lissa fell to her knees and tore the wrappings from his thigh where they had attempted some first-aid. She examined his leg, and a gash on his face.

They were both an odd color. The one on his leg was small, and not at all deep, but he laid there and was breathing shallow and slow.

Robin turned his neck slightly and grunted. So he was awake.

That was when he noticed how scrunched up he was. His jaw was set, and his eyes were squinted shut. His muscles were forcing his mouth and eyes shut.

“I think it’s poison,” Lissa said, “Something to make him unable to move.”

Nowi shuddered at the thought, but figured she might be of some use. Kneeled down to the smeared injury over his eye and opened her mouth.

She took in a deep breath, and let the smell wash over the back of her mouth.

“There’s something there other than blood,” Nowi said.

Even just inhaling a bit of it made her incredibly sensitive organs seize slightly. There was the tangy smell of blood, but with a sort of sour kick to it. Above it all was the lingering scent of dark magic. a cloying taste which made the air feel almost thick to breathe.

“There’s dark magic in the air,” Nowi continued, “Though I’m not sure what it’s from.”

Lissa pulled a small gemstone from some hidden pocket of her dress, and Nowi felt the waves of light magic coming of the crystal.

“I didn’t remember to grab a staff, but this’ll do for now.”

Lissa started with the cut on his eye, she held the crystal close and a light seemed to radiate from the gem like a physical object. It reached out to the injured and Nowi could feel preforming some sort of pulling/sucking action. It was extracting the poison.

They had their answer when the band of light connected to Robin started eating the poison, and the gem darkened in color.

“Someone put a curse on the poison to make it linger. Maybe it’s better to say the poison itself is a curse, rather than some naturally extracted toxin,” Lissa explained.

Nowi nodded along. The men around them were staring at her. They might have been kneeling in reverent awe if the situation would have allowed it. If she glanced up at them she would probably see a few of them whispering a prayer.

That was the kind of presence she commanded. A religious figure for them. For most Ylisseans.

Lissa handed her the crystal, “Hold that over his leg. It’ll do the work for you. Chrom and I carry a few on us at all times, but they’re kinda expensive.”

Lissa set to work cleaning the cut over his eye using the materials one of the soldiers handed her. As his muscles slowly relaxed, the first thing to open was his good eye, which searched the space before settling on Lissa, and then Nowi.

Nowi ignored him for the moment, and held the crystal over his leg, the same thing happened, but the gem darkened almost to black. Once it was done, it collapsed into dust.

Lissa whistled, “Wow that’s a pretty strong curse. They usually last a bit longer than that.”

Nowi shrugged, “who knows?”

Lissa finished with Robin’s eye, and got to work on the smaller cut on his leg.

Robin spoke then, “Thanks Lissa,” he turned to look at Nowi and offered her a tired smile, “I appreciate your help.”

She nodded at him, not trusting herself to say something defensive or particularly harsh.

Lissa patted Robin on the shoulder before lifting herself up to face the small group of soldiers around them.

She started issuing orders in a tone Nowi had never heard her use.

“You, you, you, and you,” she pointed to three men and a woman, “get Sir Robin to my personal healing tent. Notify Libra. I need a two volunteers to send messages. And rest of you are going to get to work on cleaning this mess up. Take the bodies to Healing Tent One and have them prepped for autopsy.”

It was her Princess Tone. A persona she took on to impress and command, and it had the men around her scrambling to follow her orders.

Nowi sank to the side and waited for it to be over. Lissa would make time for Nowi once she was available.

Soon enough her availability came, and as she strutted over to have a more private conversation the persona sloughed off. She sat in a slouch next to Nowi and sighed.

“What a day. Assassins, I think, and we were going to have a party tonight,” Lissa waved a hand, “Oh but don’t worry it’s still gonna be on. Might just happen a bit later, and some people will be extra grumpy till they wind down.”

“Okay,” Nowi said, nigh a whisper.

Lissa continued, “Because of this I probably won’t be able to help you get set up and situated. I’ll arrange to get one of the other shepherds to do it. Maybe two, but Maribelle might be busy.”

“That’s fine.” Nowi replied.

**

_It most certainly is not fine._

Lissa roped one of the shepherds’ Pegasus knights into being her escort for the afternoon. Sumia was friendly enough though her lack of confidence was astounding. She could smell the scent of Chrom all over her, lingering like the savory taste of the meat pie she was talking about.

Nowi had to wonder what the prince saw in such a shy woman. She would probably never know, as she wasn’t much for gossip. Just idle thoughts.

Even as she held intrusive thoughts, she kept up conversation with Sumia on the way to the shepherds’ ring.

She kept her voice controlled and properly bubbly, “So what’s fun to do around here?”

Even as she said this she skipped about and twiddled with her incredibly long hair. She made a show of looking about excitedly, and _not_ flinching when someone across the way shouted about whatever.

She asked just to bring up another conversation point. It was starting to go stale after Sumia had exhausted her knowledge of pie. Sumia was awkward when she wasn’t focused on something or when she was over-focused.

Everytime their conversation died she would find something silly to trip over, or even (once) straight up run into someone.

She frowned slightly. Wasn’t that supposed to be an endearing trait for women? Clumsy was cute right? It just made her frustrated and exasperated.

Nowi quickly let the flash pass her by as she continued to explore the path on the way to the center of the camp. She laughed and giggled at the interesting things. Sometimes poking at them too.

“Not much as a group,” was Sumia’s reply, “We all have dinner together, and once a week or so we all sit around the fire and tell jokes and stories.”

“Most of us like to keep some kind of hobby,” she laughed a little. A tinge of red smeared her cheeks, “I’m a bit of a reader.”

Then she tripped.

As Nowi helped her back to her feet she thought about her own personal interests. She liked to collect things. Refused to use the term hoard. It was a vice of hers she hadn’t engaged in for quite some time.

“I like to collect stuff,” She said, “Just things that look cool or interesting. Shiny rocks, Smooth rocks. I used to have a bit of a stash of gems and coins…” she trailed off.

“I see,” Sumia had replied.

There was another uncomfortable silence then, which lasted up a short while. A minute or so, but then they were near central command.

Sumia spoke up again, “Do you have any specific questions about your arrangement?

Nowi decided to brighten up then, “Ah yes!” she clapped her hands together, “You said we all get together for dinner right? When’s dinner? I’m starving. Lissa hasn’t let me eat much good food.”

Sumia giggled. She covered her mouth with a hand when she did so, “ Of course. It’s one of those, ‘once everybody’s ready’ things. It usually happens a bit before sundown.”

“Oh I can’t wait!” Nowi said.

Sumia continued to laugh, “I’m starting to get hungry myself, but well, you see it was Robin’s idea. Before we were part of the greater army, the shepherds just kind of naturally ate together on the march. Mostly. Since Robin’s joined he’s made it all but mandatory. He really likes to emphasize camaraderie between people who work closely together.”

This made Nowi genuinely curious, “Uh huh.”

Sumia seemed to catch her meaning and continued, “I think it’s like his whole philosophy. We need to be able to watch each other’s backs, and he tends to have us set up in a buddy system of sorts. For a system like that we need to have unwavering trust in one another, and I think Robin wants us to foster those good friendships as best we can.”

“That’s cool,” was all Nowi could think to reply.

They walked into the camp, where a few of the shepherds were lazing about. Tending to the fire or sitting and chatting. There was a mage off to the side with her nose in a book. She adjusted her glasses, which cause her to notice Nowi and Sumia.

The mage gave a short wave. Sumia returned the gesture.

“That’s Miriel,” Sumia said, “She’s a great mage, but kinda has the opposite taste to me in books. All magic theory and business. Thinking _is_ her hobby.”

A few others were there as well. A large man, shirtless despite the dying desert sun on the horizon, was tending to the fire. He was absolutely sunburnt red.

Nowi was pretty sure her jaw dropped at that, but she quickly composed herself and went over to him. Sumia followed passively at a distance.

Nowi crouched down beside him, and had to resist the urge to puke being so close to such a sparsely clothed man.

“Whatcha’ doin’?” she asked.

The man looked over and saw her. His gaze quickly roved over her, he paid extra attention to her ears, doubtless a surprise to him, before his eyes wandered lower, and _lingered._

She shied away slightly from his gaze, which seemed to break him out of it.

He pointed a thumb to his chest and spoke, “Name’s Vaike. I’m making sure this fire stays good and strong for tonight.”

He smiled and gave himself a nod as if to say, _yes I’m important._

Disgusting. He made her uncomfortable.

Vaike poked at the fire again, before turning to look her over once again, “You the new girl? ‘The Vaike’ here is something of an important member ya’ see.”

Nowi tilted her head just a bit and bared her fangs subtly, “That so?”

“Yeah well you see, I do this, and that- I’m doin’ all kinds’a stuff around camp. Someone;s gotta keep up on his push-ups.”

He nodded and grinned.

_Is he an imbecile?_

Vaike seemed to realize he was being stupid and quieted down to tend to his fire again.

Sumia saved her then,” Come on Nowi your tent is over this way”

She put her hand on Nowi’s shoulder, causing the small manakete to jump.

Nowi instinctively whirled around on her attacker, teeth once again bared to rip and tear. There was no attacker. Just Sumia with a flash of concern in her eyes.

“Everything alright Nowi?” even as she asked that, Sumia took a single step back.

Nowi took a deep breath and recovered her excited self, “Nope all good. You just surprised me! Where’s my tent?”

Sumia seemed to shake herself off and regained her easy smile, “it’s right over here. We’ve actually got you in-between the Royal Tent and Robin’s tent. We actally had one of the shepherds get it all decked out with living-space-stuff. There’s already a cot with a pillow and some blankets. I guess that’s it for living-space-stuff.” She sighed.

Nowi smiled at her, “Guess I’ll just have to fill the rest of the space with my own stuff then,” she yawned, “I think I’m going to go rest up for a bit before all  the eating and drinking starts.”

Nowi steeled herself and dove in for a hug on Sumia. It seemed to take her aback, “Thank you for showing me around today Sumia,” Nowi said.

Sumia gave her shoulder a tentative pat, “Of course. Enjoy your nap. Do you want me to get you when dinner starts?”

“Please?”

Sumia giggled again, and did that thing where she covered her mouth with the back of her hand.

“I’ll see you in a little bit. Enjoy your rest.”

Nowi escaped from the contact she initiated and skipped away to hide in her tent.

Pushing those flaps aside and entering was like a weight was being pulled from her shoulders, and she let out a sigh.

_It’s going to be a long night._


	3. Chapter 3

Robin was a bit woozy from the cursed poison, but still he had business to attend to, and wanted to finish with the healing quickly. They soldiers took him to Lissa’s personal healer’s tent, which held just the barest traces that she had been caring for Nowi in there.

The sheets of the bed were not perfectly set back up, there were a few of the manakete’s stray hairs lingering here and there, so long it was as if he couldn’t find the end to them. Every time he found on of those hairs, he would pluck it from the bed and toss it to the ground. It never worked on his first attempt and they got caught on something. He’d have to find one of those elusive ends and pull from there, then find the other.

That was what occupied his mind while he waited for a more magically minded session of healing. He waited for Libra, not Lissa, because an attack like that would have Frederick running circles around himself trying to keep her _and_ Chrom safe.

It wasn’t too long before Libra stepped into the tent, as beautiful and regal-looking as ever. The man always walked with a sort of grace that let Robin fool himself around that man. If he didn’t think about it, it was as if a woman was tending to him, so he thought about it. He had to think about it, because once, during training, he had ashamedly averted his eyes when Libra had removed his shirt.

He had cringed away from the monk and blushed. At the time, what had returned him to the moment had been Libra’s long-suffering sigh. He was used to people mistaking his gender, but of course, once Robin had looked back upon him it was obvious that he was a man.

Libra hid behind his clothing, with layers and layers and a high collar. All the layers made him feel small, but he was not. Libra had a beautiful face, but his broad shoulders and toned stomach made it apparent what is true occupation was.

Libra got to work on Robin’s injuries fast. He was a busy man, and likely would have relegated the curing of such small wounds to- maybe- a trainee. He couldn’t though, because Princess Lissa had called for him specifically to do the job.

Robin spoke just as Libra was starting the process, “Thank you, Libra, for coming here. I know you’re busy.”

The priest then closed his lips into a flat line, for just a second, before he closed his eyes and gave a solemn nod.

“Indeed. I am glad you are well.”

Just as Libra was finishing up Nowi came by, escorted by Sumia, and collected the last remaining evidence that she had spent much time in the tent at all. When she passed him by, she gave him an inscrutable look.

They were talking about pie.  
**

After he was healed up, Robin made his way back to command. The sun was hanging low, and threatened to burn the sky with orange and purple.

He went straight to the command tent.

There were four guardsmen outside. _Four._ They all bowed as he walked pass.

Inside the tent, Chrom was sitting, with Lissa and Cordelia on either side of him. Frederick stood behind them and glared when he entered. He still bowed to the tactician, if only small and brief.

Robin took his position across the table from the trio. Out of his many pockets he pulled his personal ink well and two feathers. He unfolded three pieces of parchment.

“Okay…” he said.

Chrom smiled, “It’s good to see you weren’t done any lasting harm Robin. We’ll have results back on the autopsies soon enough. Maybe we can find anything out about them.”

Robin began writing, taking notes. The scratching sound against the parchment was soothing in a way.

“They weren’t assassins,” Robin paused a moment before elaborating, “Whatever poison they were using- it wasn’t meant to kill. I don’t think my life was in too much danger.”

Cordelia hummed a bit. A single clear tone as she thought.

“What do they have to gain from capturing the head tactician? Gangrel could surely do better by having you dead,” she said.

“He’s insane. He could just want to torture information out of me. It also doesn’t have to be Gangrel,” Robin shrugged. There were other dark mages in Plegia. In fact, probably more in the Grimleal than Gangrel had under his direct control.

It was then that the preliminary report for the attackers came in. Something simple. Surface level knowledge, but it was plenty. A more in depth and fleshed out report of their racial identity and such would be made later.

Chrom read the report first, and then it was passed around.

The most incriminating factor of information? Tattoos on the neck. Tattoos- two separate marks in the shape of claws for fangs.

“So it’s the Fang that did this then?” Chrom asked.

“Perhaps,” Robin said, “But it could be a farce. To draw our ire away from the real culprit.”

The Fang were and old organization based out of Plegia. A mercenary company old enough to have hereditary leadership. They specialized in covert operation and assassination. They were expensive.

Robin knew their price first-hand, because he had held a contract with them shortly after Emmeryn’s kidnapping. It’s how he knew that they were hardened professionals, because a great number of their group was found among the bodies with the Grimleal that night.

His contact had shown indifference, despite the fact that Robin was most definitely the reason many of his brothers and sisters were dead. He had a certain level of respect for that kind of professionalism, even if people lacking such allegiances rubbed him the wrong way.

He hired the Fang to discover the location of Emmeryn. It was coin wasted, because Robin had not been banking on the fact that Gangrel would just simply send a messenger to tell them exactly where Emmeryn was, and when her execution would be.

“We have intel that suggests the Grimleal cult makes frequent use of ties to the Fang,” Robin said.

It was true. Some random fact from his memory. He’d dealt with the Fang before. _Before_.

More than once, though he didn’t recognize any of the ones he had spoken to or killed since waking up. Maybe for the best, and he couldn’t expect much better.

Robin didn’t need to recognize a person to just know-on some deeper level- that the Grimleal were the ones behind a Fang kidnapping.

“What reason would the Grimleal have for wanting to capture you then?” Chrom mused. He had a hand on his chin, rubbing over the immaculately smooth flesh.

Robin pulled the sleeve of his coat up. The one which was scarred from blood rituals done again and again. He showed off the tattoos which tangled his forearm.

Seeing those marks on him never failed to make Frederick shift from one side to the other and look to the side, though Chrom and Lissa had long since become accustomed to his probable past.

“Perhaps they want their priest back.” Robin said, “It’s the second time they’ve attempted to capture me,” though the first time was during combat in Castle Ylisstol.

It was Cordelia who spoke next, which threw him off, “Perhaps, Robin, it is time for you to have your own personal guard. At least for when you are making business around camp. When you’re with the shepherds at night I doubt they’d be of much use.”

Robin scrunched up his nose at the thought. He didn’t need protection. They would only complicate his life.

Chrom nodded, “I’m in agreement. For now we can simply assign a rotation for you, but once we have Emmeryn back in Ylisstol we should have a permanent set of retainers assigned to you. I’ll let you pick them out, of course.”

Robin groaned. That was even worse. He knew that Chrom and Lissa were used to being followed about for every waking moment of their lives, but the thought of it made him deeply uncomfortable.

Lissa giggled, “Think about it this way Robin. No more… privacy… no more alone. Wherever you go- they’ll be there.”

“Not helping, Lissa,” Robin growled.

“Having a glorified butler in a suit made of steel isn’t so bad,” Lissa grinned mischievously, “Perhaps we should talk about my own personal retainer. Chrom.”

She had those big doe eyes which didn’t pare well at all with the smirk on her face.

Chrom shrugged, “It is something to consider.”

Lissa continued, “You see, I already had someone in mind. Lon’qu.”

Chrom smacked his own face. He kept his hand there but it didn’t disguise his exasperated sigh.

“Absolutely not,” Frederick said.

“Why not?” Lissa whined, “The only person better than him is you, but you spend all your time with Chrom. Chrom and I can’t spent every waking moment together. It’d be good to have the stoic… watchful gaze of such a man…”

Robin sat flabbergasted at the argument.

“Lissa…” Chrom all but whispered, but she wasn’t done.

She turned her smirk on Robin then and gave a dramatic flair, “Besides, who’s going to protect me from the lecherous advances of Sir Robin?”

Frederick turned his gaze to Robin, hardening into that scary smile of his.

“Perhaps it would be good for _Sir_ Robin, a man nobility, to spend less time alone with the Princess. Lest any untoward rumors surface,” Frederick intoned.

Lissa gasped in mock shock, “Oh that won’t do. All I was insinuating was that I had- say- a guard. A man skilled in the sword. Lon’qu for example. He’s quite good with the sword. Better than Robin. Someone who could protect me should such a lustful urge ever overcome our dear tactician.”

Lissa brought one hand to her chest, fingers splayed out, and lifted her other hand into the air as she practically sang that last bit.

Cordelia shifted. She looked uncomfortable.

Robin wasn’t about kick a gift-horse in the mouth. Use all the tools and what-not.

He rose from his chair and walked over to Cordelia.

“It seems this is an argument best held in private,” Robin said, “I shall escort Lady Cordelia from the room.”

In as gentlemanly a manner as he could, Robin held his hand out for Cordelia to take.

She took his hand, and he lifted her from her chair.

“Come now Cordelia. Let us be off. It seems there are private matters to the crown that need handling.” He tried to sound as noble and dramatic as possible.

Once they were out of the space, with the argument continuing inside, Cordelia let go if his hand and brushed her hand against the skirt of her uniform.

“Thank you,” she said.

Robin shrugged, “I didn’t want to be in there for that either.”

They started walking towards the shepherds tents. A short ways away.

Cordelia spoke up, “Is what Lissa brought up true? ‘Lecherous designs?’”

Robin chuckled, “No not really. Lissa has done a great deal to help me become more comfortable. Whatever it looks like to an outside observer- those three, at least, know I have no interest in Lissa romantically.”

“I don’t mean to criticize, Robin, but perhaps you might either be much more public or much more discreet with your friendship to Lissa. Despite all the joking, there _are_ rumors,” Cordelia said.

“I’m afraid being public might make things much worse, as far as rumors go. What we have to talk about- well it isn’t for the ears of everyone. You see she helps me to sort through my thoughts and memories.”

“I see…” Cordelia murmered.

“Aye. In that sense if she had to have a personal guard, retainer, whatever, I too would prefer it to be Lon’qu. He’s a man who knows discretion. It might assuage Frederick as well. Lon’qu can beat me.”

Robin stopped outside his own tent, “If you excuse me, I have things to do. The attack today has just added another stack of paperwork to my list. I’ll have to re-arrange the entire guard rotation.”

“As is good, Robin,” Cordelia said, “I’ll see you tonight for the fire?”

“I’ll be there,” he said.

It was as good as a guarantee.

+++++++++++

The sun was down, just below the horizon with only the last vestiges of its colorful descent evident. Vaike. Having nothing else to do all day, had sat with the fire and coaxed it into a roaring blaze. Using that much wood was wasteful, but they were a mere few days away from Emmeryn.

The shepherds needed a last event of sorts to prepare everyone. To calm nerves and assure each other.

Gregor was the life of the party. He waddled around the massive fire with a mug of ale in each hand as he told stories. He would crack a bad joke and then laugh so hard at it that everyone else couldn’t help but to join in.

Gregor was like a friend injection. Nearly all of the shepherds had known each other for years at least, and knew all the best stories about one another, but the old mercenary had plenty of life lived, and more stories than his years.

As everyone dug deeper into their tankards the stories and jokes grew raunchier. When Gregor started a bit about being caught with his captain’s daughter- Maribelle stood, huffed, and dragged Lissa away.

As Maribelle and Lissa passed him, the princess tapped him on the shoulder and pointed. Off at the edge of the circle, huddled up with a blanket, Nowi sat.

He nodded to her and resolved himself to slowly edge his way over there. Nobody would miss him if he got up and moved. Gregor was an excellent storyteller and had the attention of everyone.

With that thought, he stood up, and the only one to take particular interest was Stahl beside him. Robin patted him on the shoulder to confirm everything was well, and stepped out of the ring. He set his mug down to hold the spot.

It was noticeably colder away from the fire. He knew why Nowi had a blanket around her.

He’d always had trouble with the cold. Couldn’t stand it. He sympathized with her somewhat.

When Robin drew near, he saw Nowi snap out of her thoughts and look up at him distrustfully.

He took another step towards her and she shuffled a bit.

Alright he knew her distance now. A bit further than he was tall. That’s where he plopped himself down.

He reclined in the sand there, and continued to watch Gregor’s wild gesticulations for another minute.

When he turned to look at her again, she was still eyeing him. Warry.

“How’s the crew so far?” he asked.

“I don’t like Vaike.”

He snorted, and had to hold a hand against his mouth to let the rest of his laugh die.

Nowi continued. She seemed to take offense, “I don’t like to be stared at in such a way. Don’t tell me that’s normal for him?”

Oh it was the serious kind of ‘don’t like.’

Robin sighed, “I’ll see about dealing with it. If Sully sees him doing anything she usually handles it. Gives him a good kickin’ to,” Robin shivered then, “Sometimes her horse joins in.”

Nowi laughed then, and he saw the light of mirth in her eyes. That was… encouraging.

He decided to continue with the story, “We were on our way back from Regna Ferox when it happened. We had just made camp, and people were wandering around, winding down for bed and the like. I saw Vaike wander off into the forest and decided to follow him. He’s not known for keeping out of trouble. Anyway, I found him in a bush, with Sully bathing on the other side,” he noted that her expression noticeably darkened. She wasn’t laughing anymore. “Her horse chased us down. It left us both pretty bruised. I think she worked the reasoning out of Vaike, cuz she beat him down in the middle of camp later that night.”

Bad story.

He saw her shift about again and adjust the blanket to draw it tighter around her neck. She let out a sigh.

“You mind if I scoot a bit closer? It’s difficult to talk from so far away,” He asked.

He watched her expression then. How her eyes turned big as saucers and how her nose scrunched up. She bared her fangs again, like earlier in the day, but quickly schooled that expression into a fine line. Lips pressed together.

“Go ahead,” she said.

So he did. He scooted towards her slowly. He could feel some of the sand making its way into his breeches.

Right when he was within arm’s length she held up a hand through the blanket. It caused her form to appear lumpy.

“Close enough,” she said.

Robin nodded, and went back to his previous sitting position. Arms back, propping him up. He didn’t miss how Nowi scooted just a bit further away from him.

Eventually the position he was in grew uncomfortable, so he decided to just lie down. He rested his hands under his head like pillows. He felt his shirt tug up slightly, and watched the way her eyes wandered down to the marks on his belly. He might’ve mistaken that small gasp she made.

She continued to sit. Almost straight up, huddled in that blanket.

Robin decided she was probably more comfortable with him there if he was silent, so he chose to shut up and just enjoy the night instead.

It was chilly away from the fire, but his coat did for him what Nowi’s blanket was doing. Soon enough the sand would grow cold enough for it to be genuinely uncomfortable to lay away from the fire, so he intended to make the most of it.

Company was probably the best thing for Nowi, silent as it was.

For a short while they sat like that. Eventually Gregor traded off with a much inebriated Chrom, who got up and started to make a fool of himself.

Once the blue-haired prince was up and in the swing of his own story, Nowi broke the silence.

“Your injuries… are you okay?” she asked.

Robin patted his thigh, “Almost like new. The one over my eye was messier and sat too long though. I haven’t looked in a mirror yet, but it’s probably a pretty nasty scar.”

More silence. Long enough, and somewhat comfortable. He started to doze.

She then spoke for the last time that night.

She shucked an arm out of her blanket and pointed to the group, “Are they always like that?”

She pulled him out of his rest, and she had to repeat herself.

“Pretty much. I’ve only known them for a few months, but it’s been like this the entire time,” he said.

She sat with him for a little bit longer, but then got up and shuffled back into her tent. Lissa had put her right in-between him and the royal tent.

Once she was completely swallowed by the darkness, he got up to join the others. Someone had stolen his mug and drank it all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I'm back at it. I started this story with the full intention of giving it an ending no matter what, and commissioned the art as a bit of an incentive to do so. I've invested something in this. More than just the money of course, but I sit and think, "I can't let this art go to waste."
> 
> On other notes, a whole bunch of things happened which delayed my writing. I got super into Genshin Impact, Shadowlands came out, there was the Pokémon DLC. Naturally I could just weave my writing into my other hobbies, but then I got a new job. The job has 12 hour shifts so I end up working for big chunks, and then going home and going to sleep, because I need to be awake early in the morning again for the next shift.
> 
> The best part of the job is that I spend most of those 12 hours at a computer, and there is plenty of free time in between my duties. The entirety of this chapter was completed in between job tasks. I feel like the situation is the perfect marriage. I can do something I enjoy during the slow times, and feel accomplished that I'm able to get this story written.

Robin sighed to himself for what felt like the thousandth time. While looking over the battle plan he found yet another weakness. Not in the shepherds’ mission, but in the combat formations for the main army. A potential flaw. _Potential_ to be bad. Not a genuine flaw, but just yet another thing to keep in mind.

So now he was busy preparing a back-up plan for the back-up. The plan to save them if there were more wyvern riders than expected, and if those riders were mages, or were doubling up with mages. The concept of wyverns and mages was not unheard of, of course, just so incredibly rare that he hadn’t initially thought about it at all. But thinking about Nowi and the implications for a massive flying mage had got him thinking about the uses, and then the dangers if it was used against him.

Robin didn’t think it at all likely for there to be many- if at all- wyvern riders who also used magic, but given Plegia’s propensity to churn out mages he couldn’t put them past the potential dangers. Gangrel was definitely crazy enough to stick a mage on the wings of the magic-weak flying beasts and risk their lives.

Flying mages in and of themselves were not completely foreign to him, as some Ylissean pegasus riders took to anima magic. Robin simply had never considered the possibility of large numbers of malig knights, considering the insane skill required to handle a wyvern, combined with the years of reading and knowledge gathering required to cast magic at a combat-proficient level. 

The new potentially dangerous revelation had Robin forcibly sequestering himself within one of the shepherds’ covered wagons rather than march. All so he could draw up yet another set of battle plans which included the massive enemy use of flying mages.

This sudden intrusion on his plans was causing no undue amount of stress, and he had already waved away more than one concerned query. Robin knew for a fact that Chrom was anxious about him and his sudden decline into the wagons. 

Normally Robin would simply wait until they made camp for the night before he attempted to make any headway with more battle plans, happy to try and keep thoughts and plans in his head, but with so little time before the actual storming of the Plegian capital he needed every moment he could get- even a bumpy, scratchy, scrawled mess of maps, notes, and plans.

It was hours into his anxious contemplation of the battlefield that he was finally and permanently interrupted. Throughout the day any one of the shepherds might be in the wagon to take a moment’s respite from the heat, Maribelle in particular, but he was content to ignore most of them.

His most recent and pressing guest, however, was some he felt he couldn’t ignore, though he doubted that she would be particularly upset to be left alone with her thoughts.

It was hours into the day- or rather, night. The march- that Lissa pushed open the pack of the wagon’s tarp to let in her own charge. 

Nowi zipped in with a big, childishly dopey grin on her face. Such a look which belittled the sharp fangs hidden in with the rest of her teeth. She was altogether much happier looking, for a moment. As soon as she had a quick look around, really a quick look. The back flaps of the tarp weren’t even done flapping wildly from the intrusion.

She slumped down onto the bench opposite him and heaved a great sigh. He could see her physically deflate, as if he was to upturn his water skin let the precious contents fall out. She seemed to shrivel in on herself. She sunk in and emptied herself out with that one sigh.

“Something up?” Robin asked.

Nowi looked up at him- stared really- for a moment before responding. Her eyes went wide and round, as if his talking to her was an anomaly, even after their previous conversations. 

He saw it then, the look in her eyes. She set her jaw, pinched her lips, and clenched her fists in her lap. 

“Are you okay Nowi?” he asked again.

When she spoke, her voice was small and weary. It seemed as if all her energy was being expended in aggression, as he could hear it in her voice, the sudden shift from their rather pensive and mostly friendly conversation from times before. 

“I am just fine,” She grit out, “Simply not used to walking all this much.” she shuffled around then on the bench and cloistered herself more tightly within her cloak and jacket.

“I can find some other place to do my worrying, if it would please you,” Robin offered.

Nowi shook her head, “No need, just continue with your ‘worrying.’”

Robin nodded to her, and turned back to the awkward position he had himself sat in, with his notes strewn about and mixed around. It really made his back ache, but there was nothing to be done. Not as if sitting at a desk huddled in his tent was much better, just made a different part hurt.

From there he continued to draw up- literally draw for he had been sketching formations for the last hour. Once he had felt like the wyvern-mage situation had been mostly worked through as notes and thoughts.

He ran his new pen over his upper lip, and around his mouth absently.

When he first started up as Chrom’s tactician, and was working exclusively with just the small band of shepherds, he had made battle plans with each individual person’s movements tracked page for page. At least he planned out where they should have been according to plan. Ultimately though, he was best on the battlefield, and despite his insistence on being thorough his plans often changed on the fly.

_Now, just shy of a month into their war campaign he was regretfully pushing aside his older methods of single unit movement. It irked him, some perfectionist part of him, that he didn’t have the time to draw plans for literally every single individual one of the some ten thousand soldiers Ylisse had mustered in such a short time._

_Hethendecided,onc individua peopleweretoomuch,todividethemilitaryplanningbytheircohorts, andthenfurtherbytheircenturies. anythingsmallerwouldbefartoounrealisticevencenturieswasstillalargetaskbutmanageablerealisticandlogical._

Robin took a breathe, not noticing the slight whistle of the air as it flowed around the pen in his mouth.

With the new idea on how to draw plans and distribute them, with orders being delivered to the leaders of _each cohort, to then be issued out through the centurions down the ranks. At least that was how it worked for the Ylisse portion of the army. HethoughtontoRegnaFerox,andhowtheirorganizationwasdifferentofcoursestartingwithFlaviathenewKhanregentbeforemovingontoBasilio-_

“Robin?” 

Robin sighed. He was letting his thoughts get away from him. Letting himself tangentialize way off from his current task 

“Yes Nowi,” he said through whatever mouthful he was currently dealing with.

She shrunk from his exasperated tone, but still deigned to respond with a point. Leveling her finger at his mouth, where the back half of his _very expensive_ wooden pen was currently separated from the front half- cracked down the middle. The taste of the ink came next and he spat involuntarily. 

He made a mess of the most recent battle plan, and started searching for his water skin, all while humming and groaning his discontent. 

Now in that moment Robin definitely thought himself an idiot, but also not so much so that he would waste a full mouthful of water, just a small amount, which he practically fell from the back of the wagon to spit into the gravelly sand.

Miriel was walking by her lonesome a short ways back from the cart. She spared him a single glance up from her book, eyebrows scrunched and raised, before going back to her reading.

As he pulled himself back fully into the shade of the wagon he thought he heard a snort, but when he had turned back around, Nowi shied away again.

Robin moved to sit back by his ruined plans and gave her a pursed lipped grin.

“Don’t ever eat ink Nowi. I warn you it is not a pleasant taste,” Robin tried a joke.

He smacked his lips a bit for effect and took another small sip of water. This time he did swallow the water. Robin feared the taste would never leave his mouth.

Nowi turned her head down slightly toward the floorboards, turned her eyes to him, and he swore he saw a small smile there.

+++++++++++

The army was one day away from the capital of Plegia. So close that when Robin looked towards the horizon he could see the great city, or at least it’s location. He could only really see two things. He could see the palace; massive and unyielding. He could see one other thing. Great and foreboding. From his distance away, Robin thought that the structure looked like the bones of some massive beast. So large even, that it probably dwarfed the city. 

Dwarfed any city. The size of a mountain. Even from so far away he could feel a pit in his stomach. A heavy rock that burned like fire and set him alight with an unnatural fear and longing all at once and mixed together.

The intense feeling had him up and awake still, with the heat of the sun beating down on the desert. The best he could do was try to rest. Robin had found early on that he was comfortable with the desert heat. Less so the chill. He had suffered greatly at the hands of the harsh weather in Regna Ferox.

Now in Plegia, where he was nearly 100% certain he had lived before losing his memory, he was comfortable. Mostly comfortable. The hot weather, when coupled with his cloak which repelled both heat and cold, made for quite the cozy nest with his cot.

He should be asleep. The Ylissean-Feroxi coalition would arrive in the capital a few hours into the march and he needed to be rested, but every time he felt himself dozing, a fresh wave of those strong emotions flew back through him. He couldn’t say it was different every time, but he felt like he had experienced the full spectrum of what a human might feel.

At one point in the early morning, shortly after he had settled, Robin had felt a rush of anger. Wrathful anger so violent and intense that he had broken his cot. Slammed his fist down so hard on the thin frame of the cot that it snapped. 

Robin didn’t feel like dealing with the broken cot in the moment, and had resigned himself to trying to sleep while slightly eskew. He would have succeeded if not for the continuation of his predicament. 

+++++++++++

Robin looked over the battlefield. From his pegasus vantage point he looked over like a flying god. Controlling every aspect of his troops movements. 

Battle lines were drawn and the Ylissean-Feroxi army crashed into the Plegian lines. Even so high up, he felt as if he was there at the front to hear the crunching of armor and bones.

This was his last check over the combat situation before Basilio took over completely in conjunction with the Ylissean Primus. Then he will meet up with the shepherds and storm the courtyard to save Emmeryn.

Up in the sky he experienced his final blast of unnatural emotions. The forlorn sense of longing, combined with a new one. The feeling as if he knew this place- the plegian capital. As if he had spent his entire life there.

Up in the sky, Robin felt that he did not regret leading an army against his former country. At that point, he felt the only thing he shared in common with them was his darker skin, and perhaps in most, his humanity.

He definitely did not share his sense of humanity with all of them. His thoughts turned to Gangrel. Definitely a beast of a man. Sub-human. Hardly worthy of any mercy. 

It was hard for Robin to believe that he might have followed such a king back in the before.

Robin shook himself out of his thought, and gave one last look at the controlled chaos below. Satisfied then, he gave a pat to his mount, and directed it to descend.

“Hold!” Robin stage whispered. 

He was crouched, with both arms out to the side to stop their advance. He was leading the Shepherds with Chrom in a mission to get as close to the palace courtyard as possible before they engaged the enemy.

“Miriel now!” he commanded.

Miriel threw up her experimental spell then. It cloaked their presence somewhat. Not invisible, but unnoticeable.

The squad marched passed their spot, not even sparing a glance as they hurried to whatever assignment they were on.

“Good job,” Robin said and waved them on, “Forward!”

The Shepherds continued like that for a short while, but just as they rounded a corner on the supposed courtyard they were met with a wall of infantry. Mages behind a solid line of melee soldiers. Flying overhead was a little over two dozen wyvern riders.

They really had their work cut out for them.

Robin called out, “Position number 3! Watch for those wyverns. Advance slowly. Mages and archers fire on the wyverns. At will.”

Position 3 was a unit formation for slow and careful advance with a small group. A quarter circle up against a wall. Vaike always grumbled at not being out front for 3 but pulled his bow out anyway to take fire on the aerial units.

Position 3 worked. For a time. By the time they had hit the first wave, the Shepherds had already felled seven wyverns and their riders. Three had landed on enemy soldiers. A blessing.

Things changed suddenly with the intrusion of a third party. A group of Ylissean monks. The monks were a situation he could not ignore in good conscience, despite the odds at stake.

“Shepherds position 2! Make to the right.”

Robin made his command and immediately started pushing towards the monks. The melee shepherds formed their half circle as soon as they were off the wall. Robin always found it humorous when someone charged their line-their single line- and smashed into the hole in their defenses. Not really a hole no, for Kellam was there with his shield up and his lance ready.

It was a grim sort of humor. To laugh at such an unlucky man’s demise, but he did laugh. He chuckled and Vaike guffawed. After the kill, Vaike would always deliver a crushing slap to the armored knight’s back, clanking his gauntlet off the steel.

With Risen something like this was okay, but the horror of a man attempting to charge through their lines, to certain death, for just a shot at killing one of his mages sickened him. Whatever Gangrel had promised those dead men, it was worse than death.

“Quicken!” Robin commanded, “Cut them off at the fortifications. We need to stop them from reaching the monks.”

What had been a steady march across the battlefield turned into a controlled sprint. A fast pace, but one that every single one of them could keep with. Even Miriel participated in the fitness hour.

Despite his quickness, they were there too late. But just barely. Soon enough to save some of the monks. Slow enough to discover how terrifying Libra is. The priest did no more than bat an eye when the man beside him fell, before he decapitated not only his own opponent, but also his fallen companions’. 

Robin liked to think that he held all the cards in the deck when he was shuffling. Libra proved him wrong. He knew that war monks were trained in combat. Knew that libra held a high rank, and was in high standing. Enough to be personally recognized by Emmeryn regularly. 

Robin found out then, that the respect for him went far deeper than his devotion to Naga, for he wielded his axe like a madman. He crashed through the battlefield, and was perhaps the sole reason any of the monks survived until the shepherds reached them.

As soon as they dispatched the bunch there, Chrom pulled Libra aside, who suffered only minor wounds.

Robin listened in while he surveyed the field. The shepherds set up a perimeter around the fortress. Not a fortress really. It was small and open-planned with minimal shading. It gave them a rest point to set up and tend to the wounded monks. For a short while at least. 

“Why are you here?” Chrom asked.

“We were run out of our position on the field. The battle goes well, but we were just pinched off from the rest. We were waylaid by an unexpected number of injuries, and they rushed our location.,” Libra closed his eyes and stopped to breathe for a moment, “ _I Pray to Naga for all the souls who perish today_.” 

Libra’s last words there were said almost in a whisper. Something quiet and personal. 

“Very good,” Chrom rested an armored hand on Libra’s shoulder, “Go ahead and help with our wounded, Libra. It is good to see you on this day.”

Robin turned from their conversation then, and moved to stand watch, and lucky he did, for this battle was full of surprises.

Stahl was in position, and suddenly moved forward.

“Hey!” he called, “Step back, if you know what's good for you”

The green knight readied his lance, even as Sully and Robin jumped up beside him to see… a mage. One wearing the uniform of a dark mage. Clothing dark in color, form fitting to the extreme, so much so, that little was left to the imagination. Dark in color, but light enough for him to see-if he looked- the faint tone of skin beneath.

Robin didn’t understand the purpose of such clothing. Surely even with magic wards heavier protection could only be a benefit. Then again the revealing outfit was distracting. Perhaps that was its purpose. 

Either way, seeing a lone mage approach them like so set his nerves aflame. This was the exact kind of situation that he didn’t like. Things weren’t going to plan. 

Robin stepped out from the shadows, and her eyes. They widened. She gave him the same wide eyed stare he had once seen from an infant when he first stepped into Ylisstol. Something completely perplexed and interested.

She hid it well with a sort of bashfulness. She hugged her tome across her chest and looked away, but it was too late. He’d already seen the look, and knew. He knew that she knew him. There wasn’t time though. He’d box that up into one of his many brain compartments and come to it later.

Robin spoke up, “I would suggest backing off if I were you,” He said, “Keep your distance and state your reasons.”

She didn’t heed his words, not really. At least she didn’t make to approach. It was enough for him to not attempt to blast her with his magic then and there, for all the good it would do. Plegia’s dark mages were powerful and skilled in magic combat.

Then, to make matters all worse, Chrom stepped out and did his usual. He approached her like he would a friend. Almost. For all his history with approaching strangers, Chrom wasn’t a complete and total idiot. 

He was friendly enough, but he had Falchion drawn from its scabbard and had shoved it into the sand. It was a threat as prominent as any other. And one that the mage did not take lightly.

“Hold there friend,” the prince said, “What brings you out here in the middle of a battle?”

Robin pulled up beside Chrom just as Frederick, with his famous frown, stopped on the prince’s right. Robin mirrored Frederick’s own frown.

There was a slight pause where the mage chose to not say anything.

The knight chose to speak up, “Make it quick, witch.”

“Nobody _wants_ to die. Not really,” she said, “I don’t want to die- especially for a cause I don’t believe in.”

Chrom pushed forward, “Then don’t. Don’t fight for Gangrel,” she flinched at the king’s name, “Join us. Fight with us. We’ll be glad to have you.”

The mage seemed taken aback. As if her entire idea of approaching them was somehow not going to end in one of three ways. Two of those ways involved her probable death at the hands of the shepherds. The third was where she joined with them.

“What?” She said. It wasn’t really a question. More a statement of disbelief, like she hadn’t expected it to be so easy. As if their prince wasn’t a friendly and trusting man, “What if this is all just a ploy to stab you in the back?”

Chrom crossed his arms and grinned at her, “Is it? Is it a ploy to stab me in the back?”

“No?” she said.

“Then welcome aboard. I already have plenty to watch out for. What’s one more extraneous threat to my life?”

Frederick was glowering before. Robin wasn’t sure how his gaze could grow and more fierce and severe. It did though. 

Robin felt a bit dumbfounded from that. All of a sudden he had a new mage to contend with. An untrustworthy one at that. A person of dubious fealty, who he was certain recognized him.

She glanced his way, just long enough for him to tweak his eyebrows up in question. 

“Chrom, we’ve rested long enough. We should get moving again, before the enemy decides to rush our position. Virion can’t keep the wyverns at bay forever and Ricken is beginning to tire. He needs a moment to rest his magic while we push.”

Chrom nodded, “Understood. I’ll get them organized.”

“Good, warn them about the terrain. The ground for a ways in front of us is uneven and sandy.”

Frederick gave one last glare to the mage before turning about and following his liege.

“Tell me mage, what is your name?” Robin asked.

“Tharja,” she said.

Robin nodded and reached his hand out to her. She didn’t take it.

“Tharja then, are you proficient at all with wind magic? Our wind mage is growing tired from casting. We could use a replacement. You won't have any problems casting on your former allies right?”

She looked away from, purposely not meeting his eye, “I can do some simple wind magic, but it isn’t my specialty. Don’t worry about the enemy. They’re no friends of mine.”

“Enough to knock a wyvern out of the sky?”

“I don’t need wind magic to knock out a flying lizard.”

“We’ll see. I’m leading the mages right now, so you’ll be with me. You follow my orders, or you follow Chrom’s orders. Are we clear?” 

Tharja sighed. She still wasn’t looking at him, “Yes I understand.”

+++++++++++

It genuinely surprised Robin, what Tharja was capable of. She didn’t cast a single wind spell, but he did see the wyverns falling. Quite frequently too. Every time one of the flying beasts uttered nary a shriek before seizing up and dropping from the sky she let out a quiet sigh beside him.

Robin didn’t know much about dark magic. Really there wasn’t much material at all on it in Ylisse, but what he saw from Tharja intrigued him. She would flick her wrist, wave her hand, or once she even tore open her own thumb with her teeth. 

All of her actions were accompanied by something horrific happening to their adversaries. It made him glad that, for the moment at least, she was on their side. 

Even Miriel seemed impressed, or at least curious. She quirked her glasses up whenever she would glance over at the dark mage.

Soon however Tharja grew exhausted of whatever magic she had been casting, and opened her tome up for more traditional casting. Still dark magic of course. There was something unnerving at watching as spoke a dark liquid into existence, with drooped into the sand.

Robin got to watch as the miasmic glob traveled towards it’s intended victim. The enemy knew what the attack was, or at least seemed to know. They jumped out of the way with frightened shouts as the slow moving spell met its mark.

It climbed up the poor lads legs and silenced him by rushing into his every orifice. He fell to the ground with little sound more than some sputtering before convulsing.

Tharja spoke up, “He’s already dead, the seizures just make it look like he’s suffering.”

“Huh, just a scare tactic then?”

She huffed out what was possibly a chuckled, “Something like that. I could make him suffer, but I don’t see the point. It makes it harder to cast the spell.”

“Hm.”

He really didn’t know what to say to that.

The demoralized soldiers weren’t given the proper time to look on in horror as their fellow writhed on the ground. The shepherds hit them like a moving wall. They swept forward into the action, and it was almost easy. 

The Plegian soldiers tried to put up a fight. They made a good showing, but even outnumbered as they were the shepherds were better. In all his whole year of life he didn’t think he’d ever seen such low morale. Akin to bandits.

They cared about survival, and kept a loose formation, but unless they had a commanding officer there to enforce them they fell apart. 

Robin saw that particular instance of routing exactly four times before they made it to the courtyard. Almost like clockwork. Kill the commander, and watch his underlings fall apart. Some, of course, would fall in beside another officer, but on the whole the battle fell into chaos until it was impossible to tell who was fleeing combat and who was standing their ground.

The battle was like that up until the courtyard. Down below on the ground, he could see Emmeryn. She looked out over the carnage wrought in her name. For her sake, and he only hoped that she felt relief.

Chrom finished off the enemy general. An old man outfitted in heavy armor, and things happened in a flash.

The prince stood before Gangrel, up on his balcony cackling like that headsman behind Emmeryn was set to live much longer.

Robin knew better, because he had set the plan into motion. Flavia was leading a small unit, and Phila with the pegasus guard would be there soon.

Things moved faster than he could comprehend. Faster than he could possibly signal. 

Robin felt lucky that he had thought of so many contingencies. His primary plan involved Gangrel posturing over them for much longer than he did, and the pegasus knights weren’t in the area yet. Lucky for him he’d planned ahead and Flavia was in position to execute the headsman. 

After that, things really, _truly,_ got out of hand. Suddenly there were Risen everywhere, pegasi were falling, and the crunch of the knights’ armor on the ground hollowed a hole into his heart. 

He watched dumbly as Chrom sprinted. Frederick had to choose who to grab, and so he held Lissa close. She screamed and struggled against the knight’s grasp, but there was nothing she could do to break his restraint.

Chrom tripped over a stone slab.

Emmeryn fell.


End file.
